Poor Folk — August 19th Makar

August 19th.

MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,-Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my darling--I AM ashamed.

At the same time, what is there in all this?

Why should we not be cheerful again?

Why should I mind the soles of my feet coming through my boots?

The sole of one’s foot is a mere bagatelle--it will never be anything but just a base, dirty sole.

And shoes do not matter, either.

The Greek sages used to walk about without them, so why should we coddle ourselves with such things?

Yet why, also, should I be insulted and despised because of them?

Tell Thedora that she is a rubbishy, tiresome, gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly foolish one.

As for my grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, inasmuch as I am not such an old man as you think.

Emelia sends you his greeting.

You write that you are in great distress, and have been weeping.

Well, I too am in great distress, and have been weeping.

Nay, nay.

I wish you the best of health and happiness, even as I am well and happy myself, so long as I may remain, my darling,--Your friend, MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.